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The Dramatic Publishing Company 



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Practical Instructions for 
Private Theatricals 

By W. D, EMERSON 

Author of "A Country Romance, " "The Unknown Rival," 

"Humble Pie," etc. 



Price, 25 cents 



Here is a practical hand-book, describing in detail all the 
accessories, properties, scenes and apparatus necessary for an 
amateur production. In addition to the descriptions in words, 
everything is clearly shown in the numerous pictures, more 
than one hundred being inserted in the book. No such useful 
book has ever been offered to the amateur players of any 
country. 

CONTENTS 

Chapter I. Introductory Remarks. 

Chapter II. Stage, How to Make, etc. In drawing-rooms 
or parlors, with sliding or hinged doors. In a single large 
room. The Curtain; how to attach it, and raise it, etc. 

Chapter III. Arrangement of Scenery. How to hang it. 
Drapery, tormentors, wings, borders, drops. 

Chapter IV. Box Scenes. Center door pieces, plain wings, 
door wings, return pieces, etc. 

Chapter V. How to Light the Stage. Oil, gas and electric 
light. Footlights, Sidelights, Reflectors. How to darken the 
stage, etc. 

Chapter VI. Stage Effects. Wind, Rain, Thunder, Break- 
ing Glass, Falling Buildings, Snow, Water, Waves, Cascades, 
Passing Trains, Lightning, Chimes, Sound of Horses' Hoofs, 
Shots. 

Chapter VII. Scene Painting. 

Chapter VIII. A Word to the Property Man. 

Chapter IX. To the Stage Manager. 

Chapter X. The Business Manager. 

Address Orders to 
THE DRAMATIC PUBLISHING COMPANY 

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS 



PA'S PICNIC 



A RURAL PLAY IN TWO ACTS 



ADELAIDE H. WYETH 

AUTHOR OF "HUNKER'S CORNERS." "FUN IN A PHOTOGRAPHER'S 
GALLERY," " HULDAH'S PAR1N' BEE," ETC. 



Copyright, 1909, by the Dramatic Publishing Company 



CHICAGO AND NEW YORK 

THE DRAMATIC PUBLISHING COMPANY 






*W 



CAStf OF CHARACTERS. 

Pa Preston, a rich farmer. 

Ma Preston, farmer's wife. 

Betty Preston, a college girl home on her vacation. 

Roslyn Burton, son of a neighbor farmer. 

Picnic Guests, Max and Amy Turner, Bob, Gertrude, 

Mamie. 
Willie Jenkins, a dutiful son, until the hornets sting. 
Mrs. Jenkins, a fond mamma. 
Gypsy and Children, who swipe all in sight. 
Miss Blake, a picnic devotee. 
Bill, hired man. 

COSTUMES. 

Pa Preston. — Straw hat, red tie, tan shoes and gener- 
ally prosperous air. Second scene, torn clothing and dis- 
ordered appearance. 

Ma Preston. — Neat cotton dress, white apron and com- 
fortable air. 

Betty and Guests. — Attractively dressed in stylish sum- 
mer clothing. n. 

Mrs. Jenkins. — Showily dressed in country style. 

Willie Jenkins. — Very small straw hat, clothing short 
and tight fit. 

Gipsy and Children. — Attractively dressed in Gipsy cos- 
tumes. 

Miss Blake. — Prim and neat in old-fashioned gown and 
bonnet. 

Bill. — Overalls and straw hat. 

Time of presentation two hours. 



GI.D 17363 
2 



PA'S PICNIC. 



ACT I. 



Time. — Summer afternoon. 

Place. — Rich farmer's veranda. Porch chairs, cushions, 
swinging hammock, small stand holding glasses and pitcher 
of lemonade. 

Betty is gently swinging in the hammock. Roslyn 
Burton stands facing Iter, endeavoring to strike an attitude 
while grasping the ropes of hammock. 

Betty. So you do not approve of my plan to give a 
house-party ? I think it would be a lark to have Amy, Max 
and Gertrude and one or two more of the college men, if 
we can get them to come. What's your objection, Ross? 

Ross. Oh, the house and the whole farm would be buz- 
zing with a lot of crazy idiots who want you to do this or 
that tiresome stunt, anything but what a fellow would 
rather do. 

Betty. I am not so sure about that. Men are pretty 
much alike. Perhaps they would all like to do just what 
you prefer. 

Ross. But I might not be so willing to have them. I 
would not be able to see you alone ten minutes at a time if 
there were a mob of fellows hanging around. I have had 
some awfully jolly times with you since you came home 
from school and T am just becoming resigned to staying 
home summers. With you only a mile from our place I can 
manage to exist two months at a stretch in this God-for- 
saken country. 

Betty [Sitting up suddenly.'] You don't like this 
beautiful country? Why, it seems just heavenly to me 

3 



4 PA'S PICNIC. 

after being shut up within brick walls and swallowing 
dust, smoke and various sorts of germs all winter. 

Ross. That's just like you. You think everything is 
heavenly except — except me. 

Betty [Laughing.} You certainly do not appear very 
heavenly at this moment. If you think of saying anything 
very sentimental, I would advise you to strike an attitude 
anywhere but in the uncertain vicinity of a swinging ham- 
mock. Your pose is not restful. 

Ross [Lets go of hammock, takes up his hat and whirls 
it awkwardly.'] You're always guy in' a fellow just when 
he starts to say something nice to you. 

Betty [Jumping up.] Is that the reason you never 
succeeded in saying anything nice to me? Then it is all 
my fault. [Turns to L.] Here comes Pa all heated up 
from his ride to town. [Enter Pa.] Poor daddy, let me 
have your hat and coat. You look like a red-hot coal. 

Pa [Peeling off coat and throwing himself into a chair. .] 
Red-hot coal, nothin' ! I feel like sixteen roarin', blastin' 
furnaces. [Betty hands a fan and glass of lemonade.] 
Thank you, daughter. Thought I'd get paid for that big 
fat letter in my pocket. Seems to me those letters are 
comin' pretty often ; second one this week, ain't it, Betty ? 
[Betty shakes her finger warningly at him.] Oh, you're 
ashamed of it, are you? Well, I won't give you 'way if 
you're sorry for it. [Turns to Ross.] Well, young man, 
how much of a hay crop did you have over to your place? 

Ross [Watches Betty open letter and answers absently.] 
I — I — don't know, father sees to the hay. 

Betty. Will you pardon me if I just glance at my 
letter? [She smiles as she reads and Ross frowningly 
watches her.~] 

Pa. What do you find to do with yourself and the 
schoolin' you brought home from college? Suppose you 
had a chance to try it on them heifers you was raisin' over 
there ? 

Ross. Why — I guess — Oh, I don't know. Father sees 
to all those things. [Eyes Betty uneasily.] 

Pa. And does he see to throwin' the halter on you and 
leadin' you to your oats when it's feedin' time ? I don't 



PA'S PICNIC. 5 

need anyone to tell me when it's grub time. [Ross hastily 
dons hat to leave.'] 

Betty [Sticks letter in belt.] Oh, Pa, how can you be 
so impolite ! Don't go, Mr. Burton. It is surely not tea- 
time yet. Pa, can't you wait until we are called? 

Pa. I can't wait for a holler outside when I'm all holler 
inside. Guess I'll go out and help myself to a snack. 
Come along, young man, and I'll give you a hunk o' apple 
pie to make up for bein' impolite. [Ross declines and 
edges toward Betty.] All right, I see you prefer Brown 
Betty to apple pie. [EXIT r. 

Betty. Father did not intend to be rude, Ross. He 
loves to joke. Sit down and drink some lemonade. 
[Offers glass and chair.] 

Ross [Seats himself.] Was he joking when he said you 
have had two fat letters this week ? 

Betty. Oh no, that much was true. 

Ross [Gloomily.] Then there isn't much use of my 
hanging around here, I suppose. 

Betty [Smilingly.] Well, that depends on what you 
expect to get by hangin' around, as you call it. If you 
think good company and a jolly game of tennis is worth 
while, then you might hang around a little longer. You 
mustn't go off looking like a thunder-cloud. You'll scare 
all the men into the field to hurry in their hay crop. 
Here, get into the hammock and look at the news while I 
finish my letter. [Hands him newspaper and sits down to 
read letter] 

Ross [Tries liammock and jumps up.] This hammock 
is too high. If I go down I don't care to fall more than a 
mile. [Whistles loudly as lie unties hammock, fusses over 
rope leaving it tied carelessly. Aside.] That dog-gone 
letter seems to tickle her mightily. I'd like to set a match 
to it. Feel like a blamed idiot loafin' round here while 
she is reading another fellow's letter. But she will be 
sweet as peaches afterwards, so I guess I'll stick it out. 
[Pretends to hurt his finger with the rope.] Gee-min-ee! 
[Looks askance to see if Betty notices.] I might hang 
myself right here before her eyes for all she would know 
or care. Blame it ! Guess I don't stand much of a show, 



6 PA'S PICNIC. 

[Turns his back and whistles very loud. Betty holes up 
at him and smiles slyly. He turns suddenly but finds her 
with eyes glued to letter.] 

Ross [Throwing back his head defiantly and marching 
off l.] When you get through reading that everlasting 
letter sometime next year I may be over again. So long ! 

Betty [Looks up slowly.] Oh, are you going, Ross? 
Wait a minute. I have just one more postscript to read. 

Ross. I'll have time to run home to tea and back before 
you finish your postscript. 

Betty. Pretty good, for her postscripts are the biggest 
j>art of her letters. 

Ross [Turning back delightedly.] Her letter! Then 
it is from a girl friend. 

Betty. Most assuredly. Do you suppose I would be 
reading his letter before the public? [Auto-horn is heard.] 

Pa [Enters with toothpick in mouth and wiping his 
hands on his handkerchief.] Betty, whose swell machine 
is that turning in our gate? Looks like a fresh batch of 
company. Lucky I left one of those apple pies. 

Betty. I do believe it's the Turners' auto. They have 
come out from the city with some of their friends. Ross, 
you must stay to tea and help me entertain them,. They are 
a jolly bunch. Won't you please bring out some more 
chairs? [EXIT Ross. 

Pa. Don't mix me up with the batch, Betty. I'll just 
stretch out in the hammock and let on I'm takin' a nap. 
Now, mind you don't notice me. I sha'n't move nor say a 
word and they won't know whether I'm a mummy or the 
hired man takin' his noonin'. [Turns out a glass of 
lemonade and drinks.] 

ENTER Ross with chairs. 

Betty. All right, Pa. Come, Ross, let's go and meet 
the machine, [EXEUNT Betty and Ross l. 

Pa. That Burton fellow needs a stroke o' liajhtnin' or 
somethin' to wake him up. [Sips lemonade until laughter 
and chatter is heard approaching, when he sets down glass 
and hastens to hammock.] If I had $ boy like that I'd 



PA'S PICNIC. 7 

set him to thinnin' turnips or raisin' punkins. [Lies down 
in hammock.] 

ENTER Max and Amy Turner, Gertrude and Bob, 
Mamie, Betty and Ross laughing and chatting. 
Hammock breaks down and Pa's voice is heard above 
all the chatter. Racket behind scene to aid the com- 
motion. 

Pa. Holy smoke ! Who tied that rotten rope ? I'll tan 
somebody's hide for this. Come and help me up, some of 
you gillies. I won't be able to ride my horse for a week 
now. Oh my! Oh my! [Group laughs gleefully] 

Max. Who's the guy in the tumbling act? 

Ross. It must be the hired man taking his noonin\ 
He has peculiar ways of his own. Better not meddle with 
him. 

Amy. Poor old man ! What has happened ? 

Betty. Never mind, friends; it is only Pa taking his 
noon nap. He is probably having bad dreams. [Aside to 
Ross.] Help him up, for goodness' sake. You tied that 
rope. 

Ross. I beg your pardon; you mean I did not tie the 
rope. 

Betty. Of course you didn't, or he wouldn't have 
fallen. Help him up at once. [She turns to seat visitors 
who have been whispering together] 

Ross [Hauling up Pa.] Lively old mummy you make ! 
Guess we're even now. 

Pa [Rubbing his bruises.] So you're the fellow I've got 
to lick, are you ? [Betty introduces friends to her father.] 

Betty [Placing her arm about her father's neck.] 
Now, Pa, you owe us all a treat for giving us such a fright, 
doesn't he, people? 

Amy. Why, I was frightened half out of my senses, 
weren't you, Gertrude ? 

Gertrude. Yes, I thought something terrible had hap- 
pened. 

Pa. Well, maybe I was a leetle too strenurus in my 
presentation speech, but I'm willin' to make amends for the 
scare I gave you. I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll give 



8 PA'S PICNIC. 

you a picnic ; the finest one ever sprung on this fertile sile. 
You all take off your bunnits and I reckon Ma can find 
corners enuff to chuck you into till to-morrow. Then 
we'll have the grandest picnic this country ever saw. 

Chorus. Won't that be lovely ? Oh, how nice ! That's 
all right ! 

Gertrude. Betty, your father is a dear. 

Pa. I'll go and tell Ma to make ready and get Bill to 
kill a dozen or two spring chickens. We've had picnics 
here before, but they wasn't managed properly. They'd 
fuss for a week to get ready and now I'll show you how to 
get up a picnic on short notice. We'll start promptly at 
10 o'clock to-morrow morning, so you must all be ready here 
on the porch. That's all you've got to do. 

Betty. Where will you go, Pa? And who will see to 
making the ice cream and coffee. 

Pa. Leave all that to me, daughter; don't fret about 
nothin' and I'll show you how to get up a picnic and have 
it pass off without any friction or hard work for anybody. 
It needs just a little plannin' and figgerin' and I guess I'm 
equal to that. I'll just go and see to things so we can get 
a good early start. | EXIT. 

Betty. I have my doubts about the success of Pa's pic- 
nic, but never mind, the sacrifice may not be so terrible 
after all. But I have a plan which I think would be lots of 
fun. I want you all to come here for a house-party. 
Couldn't we have a jolly time? 

Chorus. Oh, how perfectly lovely ! 

Bob. You bet we'll come. Just the thing. 

Betty. Eoss seems to be the only one who does not ex- 
actly approve. 

Max. I can see through his objection easy enough. He 
wants to be the whole cheese on this ranch. You'll have to 
divvy up, old fellow. Bob can give us that new stunt of his 
for entertainment and we'll wake up things around here 
with our college songs and yells. 

Mamie. Bob, what is your new stunt? Give it to us 
now ; we may not be able to carry out the plan for a house- 
party. 

Gertrude. Yes, do give it now, Bob, 



VA'S PICNIC. 9 

Bob. All right, I'll try it if Max and the rest of you 
will give stunts. 

Max. I can't do anything but bawl in a chorus. 

Betty. When Bob has done his stunt we'll all sing. 
Go ahead, Bob. Do you need any stage properties? 

Bob. Just a couple of chairs. These will do. [Places 
two chairs at front of stage and goes through the stunt of 
working a stubborn automobile and is finally thrown head 
first the length of the machine. Group applauds. Any 
other stunt may be introduced] 

Mamie. Get your mandolin, Betty, and let's have some 
college songs. 

Ross. I'll get it. I know where it is. [EXIT r. 

Betty. What shall we sing: Solomon Levi? 

ENTER Ross with mandolin, which he hands to Betty. 
She plays and all sing one or more college songs. 
Solos may be added. 

Max. I heard a good story the other day, do you want 
to hear it? 

Betty. Yes, do tell it while I pass the lemonade. 
[Passes drink] Max tells funny story. Add others if 
desired. 

ENTER Pa, carries field-glass. 

Pa. I've got everything arranged for now. Times ain't 
much like they used to be when we had to hitch up and go 
to town to see about every little dinky fool thing. Now I 
can just step into the telerphone and do up all my errands 
in short order. Since we got a telerphone, rural delivery 
and the new-fangled machinery, farmin's nothin' but child's 
play. We can even set on our own porch and see what our 
neighbor is doing a mile away. [Holds up field- glass. ~] 
This is the thing that tells the tale sometimes. 

Girls [Jump up.] It's a field-glass! Oh, let us look 
through the glass, Mr. Preston. Isn't it a fine one ! 

Pa. [Hands glass to Amy.] Look over yonder to my 
neighbor Burton's place a mile away and see what's goin' 
on. " They are probably dragging the cistern in their search 
for that missin' son of theirs. 



10 PA'S PICNIC. 

Amy [Adjusts glass.] Oh, I see — some kind of a little 
animal running in the harn-yard. Why, it's a lamb — no, 
it's a pig, and there's another. Oh, there's a whole flock of 
little pigs ! 

Ross. Flock of pigs, that's a good one, ha, ha ! 

Amy. Well, what would you say? 

Ross. A litter of pigs, of course. 

Pa. Smart chap. I tell you what he don't know about 
farmin' 

Betty. Go on, Amy, what else do you see? 

Amy. There's a big pig now. All the little pigs are 
running to the big pig. Don't they look cute ! Like a lot 
of tiny ants. [Holds out glass.] Do look at them, 
Gertrude. 

Gertrude [Looks through glass.] Oh, how distinctly 

you can see everything. I can see Mr. [Name man in 

audience who has a new baby.] He looks worn out, as if he 
had lost a great deal of sleep. 

Max. What do you see, Gertrude; anything beside 
pigs? 

Gertrude. [Add local color.] I see a girl with a pail 
going down to the barnyard. [Boys jump up to look.] 

Ross. That's only Katie, the Irish maid, so you fellows 
needn't be in such a hurry to see. 

Gertrude. There's a man jumping over the fence. 
Guess he is going to help her milk. No, he is — Why, the 
brute's trying to kiss her ! 

Bob. Run, Burton, and put a stop to the shameful pro- 
ceeding. 

Ross. Good gracious! I wouldn't dare kiss a girl within 
six miles of this farm for fear that glass was being leveled 
at me. 

Pa. Good resolve, my boy, stick to it! 

Gertrude [Offers glass to Mamie.] Do look at them, 
Mamie. 

Mamie. How much of interest there is in farm life! 
What a good time we will have at our house-party. I can 
scarcely wait for it. [Looks through glass.] 

ENTER Bill. 

Bill. I reckon you'll have to get me your gun, Mr. 



PA'S PICNIC. 11 

i 

Preston, to shoot them chickens. I've chased all over this 

blasted farm and never ketched but one of 'em, and that's 
an old rooster tough as his own gizzard. 

Pa. Bill Rice, don't you know no better'n to break into 
perlite society with your chicken gizzards ? Clear out, and 
don't you show yourself again this side the barn-yard gate. 

Bill. All right, sir. That lets me out of mowin' the 
lawn to-day. Reckon I'll go fishin' ! [Takes out French 
harp and plays on it as he departs.'] 

Pa. That fool boy o' mine don't know enough to pound 
sand into a rat hole. Guess I'll have to go and thrash some 
sense into him [EXIT Pa. 

Betty. Poor Bill gets thrashed in father's mind about 
six times a day. Ah, here comes Ma. I want you all to 
meet her. 

ENTER Ma Preston. 

Ma, this is Miss Turner and her brother, of whom you have 
heard me speak. 

Ma. Yes, I ain't heard much else since you come from 
school. She's run on about the Turners till I felt as if I'd 
like to Turn 'er over my knee. 

Betty. We'll fine you for that pun, Ma. This is my 
friend Gertrude, and this is Mamie. 

Ma [Shakes hands with each.] I'm right glad to see 
you, girls. [Girls offer seat.] No, I can't set down. I've 
got my d'rections to carry out for that picnic that's comin' 
off to-morrow. Guess I'll have to set up all night to make 
all the goodies Pa's ordered. 

Betty. You must shake hands with Mr. White also; 
He's Bob, you know. 

Ma. Law, I've known Bob Whites and heard 'em 
screech on rail fences ever since I was old enough to try 
and put salt on their tails. 

Max. This Bob can screech all right I know, but I 
never have happened to catch him trying it on a rail fence. 

Ma. Well, he'll have to get up early in the mornin' to 
keep up with the other Bob Whites. I just came out to tell 
you your rooms are ready. Pa says you are to stay all 
night so as to get an early start. [Laughs.] I can see 



12 PA'S PICNIC. 

him startin' early, but then I always try to humor him. I 
must go and fry those chickens now. Betty, you can show 
them their rooms and make everybody comfortable. 

Betty [Jumps up, all follow.] Come on, everybody; 
you can try the rooms and decide whether you will care 
to stay for a house-party. 

Mamie. Oh, I think it will be lovely to have a house- 
party. 

Gertrude. So do I, I can scarcely wait. 

[EXEUNT all. 

ACT II. 

Scene I. — Scene in woods, following day. Whistle back of 
stage represents birds and cry of crow. 

ENTER Betty and Ross carrying an umbrella, baskets and 

rain-coats. 

Betty [Looking around.] This will do very well. It 
is far prettier than any place we have seen this morning — 
or afternoon, I had better say, for it must be long after 
twelve. Oh dear, what a terrible time we have had getting 
started ! I hope the rest of the day will be pleasant enough 
to make up for all the trouble we have had. 

Ross. Your father didn't get started as promptly as he 
expected, did he? [Puts up hammock.] 

Betty. Oh dear, no ! He spent about three hours 
going from one farm to another trying to get the kind of 
wagon he thought proper for picnicking. When he came 
home at eleven without any I proposed using the old hay 
wagon, so he filled it with hay and hitched on the two 
teams which took nearly another hour. Then it looked 
so like rain we waited fifteen minutes to see what it was 
going to do; but to think of his taking us to that grove 
where those horrid old snakes are ! If he had only hinted 
where he was going we would have vetoed it at once, for 
every woman within fifteen miles knows that grove is alive 
with snakes. 

Ross. I wouldn't have minded the snakes. Good sport 
killing them, but that other place where he wanted to 



PAS PICNIC. 13 

stop I did object to, for I am afraid to drink water out of 
any old ditch. 

Betty. I know this place and I remember there is a 
nice clear spring over that way. [Points l.] But there 
used to be hornets near there, and we'll have to be careful. 
You aren't afraid of them, are you? 

Ross. Oh no, I'm not afraid of anything. 

Betty. Then go and call to the people to hurry on. 
I'll be laying the cloth for everybody will be famished. 
[Spreads cloth c] 

Ross [Goes to R. and calls.'] Hello, come on, we've 
found a place. [Beclcons to come.] They are coming. 
[Walks back to Betty.] How did that tight wad of a Miss 
Blake happen to get an invite? Old friend of the family? 

Betty. She doesn't need an invitation ; she always goes 
to every picnic, invite or no invite. You have not been 
home summers long enough to know the queer customs of 
some of our country people. There is Mrs. Jenkins and her 
son Willie. They always go to picnics also. She came in 
just before we started to ask if there was room for Willie. 
Said she had baked some cookies and he could take a dozen 
of them if we would allow him to go along. Of course I 
said "Let him come," and both she and Willie were on 
hand with their little bag of cookies. Poor Willie ! He 
has never been allowed a day of freedom, although he must 
be twenty years old. I was hoping we could give him a 
real lark to-day, but his mother has him tied too tight to 
her apron strings. 

Ross. S'pose we bust the apron strings and let the kid 
loose for once. [Gathers sticks and lays fire.] 

ENTER Mrs. Jenkins, followed by Willie. 

Mrs. J. [Panting arid holding out bag of cookies.] I 
was scairt o' bein' too late to get my cookies here in time. 
My, I'm clean out o' breath. Willie, take off your hat and 
hang it up high on a tree. Where be a'goin' to set ? Here, 
Willie, you keep a'holt o' this cushion all day and be sure to 
set on it every time you set down. There is liable to be 
some dampness in the ground all summer. Where did you 
say to set, Miss Betty? 



14 PAS PICNIC. 

Betty. There's no hurry, Mrs. Jenkins. You see the 
others haven't come yet. Where is Pa ? This is his picnic 
and he ought to be on hand to run things. 

Mrs. J. I guess things are runnin' him pretty lively 
down in the pasture. He tried to put his horses out to feed 
and some gentlemen cows took after him. I stayed long 
enough to see that he was going to make the barb wire 
fence and was safe; then we hurried along to help with 
the dinner. Ain't there somethin' I can be cuttin' or 
spreadin' ? 

Betty. No, this is all that can be done until the other 
baskets come. Here they are at last. 

ENTER Pa in torn clothing with baskets and rugs, 
followed by Mrs. Preston and Miss Blake. 

Pa. Great Caesar ! This is harder work than thrashin'. 
Like to tore all the clothes off 'n me on that confounded barb 
wire fence. [Drops his load and looks around.] Say, 
this is all right. It's just the place I had in mind. 

Ma. It took you long enough to discover it I think, but 
we'll have to make up for lost time now. Where are the 
sandwiches, Pa ? 

Pa. They are in one of them baskets you had. 

Ma. No, they hain't ; they must be in one of yours. 

Pa. No, there's only the coffee-pot, cups and canned 
stuff in this basket, and pies and doughnuts in that basket. 

Ma. Pa Preston, you've gone and left that basket of 
sandwiches and fried chicken to home. I'll bet a dough- 
nut. 

Pa [Takes off hat and wipes forehead nervously.] You 
mean you've left it at home. I set it out on the side porch 
where you'd be sure, to see it, and now you've gone and left 

it. 

Ma. Nobody went near the side porch except you. I 
s'pose that basket is still settin' there. Good gracious! 
think of having a picnic without sandwiches. What in 
creation are we goin' to do? 

Mrs. J. [Holding out the bag.] Never mind, Mrs. 
Preston, here's my cookies to fall back on. 



PA'S PICNIC. 15 

Ma [Takes rookies.] Well, I'd just as lief lose my life 
one way as another. 

Pa. We got some coffee and pie anyhow ; I saw to get- 
tin' them here. I'll go for some water and you fellows 
start a fire. [Cry of crow.] Darn that crow. [Goes off 

L,.] 

Betty. We have the water on heating for coffee, but 
we'll need more. % Look out for hornets, Pa. 

Pa. Hornets will be just a pastime after the skirmish 
I've had with them bulls. Come on, one of you fellows 
that ain't afraid of hornets. [Ross jumps up and follows.] 

Ross. I'm not afraid of all the hornets going. 

Betty. What's become of our guests? They haven't 
lost the way, I hope. 

Ma. I reckon they fainted on the way from hunger. 
They began to look pale an hour ago. Ah, here they come. 
[Enter guests in state of collapse. Girls drop with ex- 
haustion and boys show in various ways that they are 
suffering from weakness and hunger.] Cheer up, friends, 
we'll have something to put some starch into you before 
long. I hope you will all remember this is Pa's picnic and 
not the way Betty and I run things. Here, Mis' Jenkins, 
pass your cookies to the company; they may keep 'em alive 
till something else is ready. [Betty offers water and tries 
to cheer up guests.] 

Mrs. J. [Hesitates.] Why, it ain't time yet to pass the 
cookies, is it? 

Ma. It's the only chance they'll ever have of bein' et, so 
pass 'em round. 

Mrs. J. [Unwillingly passes cookies. Peeps into bag and 
counts after each one is taken.] . Guess I'll leave a couple 
for Willie. He ain't used to goin' so long without his 
vittles. Come here, Willie, and set down by me and I'll 
give you a cookey. Better put on your hat; it's gettin' a 
little breezy. Bring your cushion. 

Willie [Gets up, puts on hat, carries cushion over near 
his mother.] Ain't I goin' to get nothin' but your ever- 
lastin' cookies? I wouldn't a come if I knowed I had 
to eat them. I've et them blamed cookies every day of my 
life for nineteen years. 



16 PA'S PICNIC. 

Mrs. J. Why, Willie Jenkins ! What makes you talk 
so disrespectful! [Howls of pain from outside.'] 

Betty and Others. Hornets ! 

Ma. Sounds more like Pa Preston. Getting acquainted 
with the pests, I reckon. Come on, Willie, we'll have to 
go and plaster 'em up with mud. Nothin' like mud to take 
down the swelling [Willie jumps up to follow.] 

Mrs. J. No, no, Willie, don't go. You'll git stung, 
sure. 

Ma. Never you mind, now, Mis' Jenkins, let him go 
and have a little fun for once in his life. It will liven 
him up a little if he does get stung. You jest give Willie 
a little more rope and he'll be better off. Set down your- 
self on your old cushion and keep it hot till he gets back. 

Willie. Bully for you, Mis' Preston. I'll bet the 
hornets ain't any hotter than that old cushion. 

[EXEUNT Mrs. P. and Willie. 

Mrs. J. Oh, dear ! I wish't I hadn't a come. My 
cookies is all gone and Willie in mortal danger and no 
signs of any dinner yet. 

Betty. Never mind, Mrs. Jenkins, the coffee is ready 
and we'll sit down and drink some to keep us from fainting 
away. Come, friends, and sit down. [Guests hasten to 
cloth spread on ground. All sorts of accidents occur while 
they eat.] 

Mrs. J. Don't anybody set down here. I want to save 
this place for Willie. Poor boy, I expect he's all bet up by 
this time. Ain't we goin' to have any ice-cream ? 

Betty. I presume Pa has some somewhere, but I don't 
know where. Here they come. I'll ask him. 

ENTER Pa, Eoss and Willie all bandaged up in mud 
plasters, groaning and complaining , followed by Ma.] 

Ma. Never mind, Pa, you know a sting is the best cure 
for rheumatiz ; it may do you a world of good. 

Willie. It ain't doin' me no good as I see. 

Ma. Well, it gave you a chance to shake your cushion 
for a time. 

Mrs. J. Here, Willie, I'm savin' things for you. 



PA*& PICNIC. 17 

[Shows a plate piled high and pats cushion at her side.] 
Poor boy, did you get stung? 

Willie [Kicks cushion to a distance; takes plate and sits 
down beside a pretty girl guest.'] Stung! you bet. [Cry 
of <row.] 

Mrs. J. Why, Willie Jenkins ! what in mercy's name 
has got into you? 

Willie [Growing reckless.] Nothin' but hornet juice, 
Ma, I've set my last on that bloomin' cushion, I'd let you 
know. I'm goin' in for some flirtin' and fun 'fore 'nother 
hundred years. 

Mrs. J. But you've got my piece of pie, and my dough- 
nut on your plate. Willie, come back, like a good boy. 

Willie. You'll have to look out for yourself this time, 
Ma ; I've broke loose for once. I tell you them hornets 
wakes a feller up. 

Pa. Ain't you goin' to give me a chance at some o' that 
grub ? Seems to me I've earned a bite or two. I've had 
enough exercise chasing up hornets and bulls to last me till 
kingdom come. 

Bob. Here, Mr. Preston, take my place. Guess I've 
finished. [Looks around wistfully while rising.] Don't 
see anything more I can tackle. 

Betty. Oh, wait for the ice-cream. Where is it, Pa? 

Pa [Starts guiltily.] Consarn the picnic business, any- 
way ! I told 'em to take that freezer over to Miller's grove, 
'cause that was the place I picked out for the picnic. 

Betty. I thought this was just the place you had in 
mind. 

Pa. 'Twas all the fault of you scary women folks. 
'Fraid of a few little harmless snakes. Why, I've seen 
snakes 

Ma. Never mind snakes now, Pa. Set right down here 
and make way with your pie and coffee. 

Pa. I'm goin' to set by the girls. I can sit by you any 
day. I rather guess I'll take my pie right down here. 

Betty [To Ma.] Oh what shall we do! poor Pa must 
be about starved and everything's gone except what is on 
Willie's plate. 



18 PA'S PICNIC. 

Ma. Never you mind; I'll get Mis' Jenkin's doughnut 
for him anyway. [Goes to Willie and manages to relieve 
him of most of his plateful.] 

Mrs. J. [Nervously fussing about Willie.] Be sure 
and save me my doughnut, Willie; you can have my piece 
of pie if you are awful holler, but I've just got to have 
that doughnut to stay my stummick. I'm weak as a rag. 
[J.stde.] For the land's sake if Mis' Preston ain't takin' 
my doughnut to give to that great husky chunk of a man. 
[Makes gestures of disapproval.] He orter go without a 
bite. Don't know how to run a picnic any more'n a cow. 

Mamie [Screams and runs to Ross.] Oh good gracious ! 
where is it ? Mr. Burton, let me stay by you. I'm deathly 
afraid of them. 

Girls [All jump up screaming.] What is it? Snakes? 
Oh horrors ! [Great commotion and nobody seems to know 
the cause.] 

Ma. Now, shet right up, every one of you. What be 
you all yellin' about anyway? There ain't a snake any- 
where in sight and nothin' else to make such a hullabaloo 
about. 

Mamie. Yes, there is. She said [Pointing to Mrs. 
Jenkins.] there was a cow coming. 

Mrs. J. No, I never. I said [Embarrassed.] I said 
somethin' about a cow, but I never said there was one 
a-comin'. 

Ma. I don't see no call to be talkin of cows in this com- 
pany. You must a been dreamin' it was milkin' time, Mis' 
Jenkins. 

Mrs. J. Well, I reckon there may be a cow nearer than 
some folks think, and a few sheep beside?. Come, Willie, 
I'm goin' off in the woods to look for wild blackberries or 
slipp'ry ellum, or somethin' to stay my stummick. 

Willie. Go on, Ma, I'll come when I £et through. 
[Offers bite of his pie to girl next to him. Very attentive 
to girls. Keeps large jackknife in his hand and eats 
ravenously.] 

Mrs. J. Never went to such doin's in my life. It'll be 
a good long time 'fore I accept another invite to your 
picnic. Picnic — I should say ! [Marches off indignantly.] 



Pa's picnic. 19 

Miss Blake. Dear, dear, I hope there isn't go-in' to "be 
no hard feelin's over this picnic. [Rises and starts after 
Mrs. Jenkins.] Don't let no angry passions rise, Sister 
Jenkins. 

Mrs. J. You jest watch your own angry passions, Miss 
Blake. I tell you my dander's up and I ain't agoin' to be 
starved and insulted to no picnic, even if I was invited by 
the county sheriff himself. 

Miss B. Now, Sister Jenkins, that ain't a forgivin' 
spirit and you'll feel mighty sorry to confess these feelin's 
to the prayer-meetin' next week. Better come back and you 
and me will try to pour ile on the troubled waters. Here, 
sister, here's some pep'mint lozengers I always carry in my 
bag. Maybe they'll help to strengthen you. [Hands 
lozenge to Mrs. J., who accepts gingerly.'] 

Mrs. J. [Sniffing.'] Well, so far as I see they ain't much 
to come back to. Guess I'd have just as enjoyable a time 
off in the woods by myself. 

Miss Blake. I was jest goin' to say, I brought along 
a little story and maybe you'd all like to hear me read it. 
I'm always willin' to do my share of entertainin' when I'm 
invited out. Soon's I heard of this picnic I went and 
hunted up this sweet little story I read in the paper. 
[Takes paper out of bag.] 

Mrs. P. I wouldn't wonder if they had all read it, Miss 
Blake. 

Miss B. Never mind, it's good enough to read again. 
It's about a real nice boy who was so kind to his Ma and 
little kittens. Shall I begin now? 

Max. Wait a minute ; I've got to get a drink. [EXIT. 

Bob. I left my hat over there by that stump. Guess 
I'd better go and get it. [EXIT. 

Mamie. Oh, I believe I've lost my hat pin. [Jumps up 
to look for it.] 

Gertrude. Let me help you look for it. [Girls walk 
to rear.] 

Miss B. {Turns out a tin cup of water and places near 
her. Puts on her specs, smooths out her mitts and makes 
various preparations. Beads in an unnatural voice.~\ 
"Jamie was a gentle little orphan who lived with his 



20 PA'S PICNIC. 

grand-parents, because his parents were dead. He was 
never known to fish or play ball on Sunday. The poor boy 

was a criple." 

Betty [Jumps up.] Oh Miss Blake, that's too sad. 
You will have us all in tears in a moment. Can't you 
recite some nice piece you learned long ago when you went 
to the lyceum ? Something sprightly and cheerful. 

ENTEE Guests. 

Miss Blake [Folds paper and places it in lag; takes 
off glasses and places them in bag; rests her head thought- 
fully on her finger a moment.'] Perhaps I can recall some 
frivolous lines I once spoke at the lyceum. If I forget, 
you can just start to visiting until I study on it a spell. 

They were about [Insert any old piece spoken iti 

ridiculous old style, with interruptions by the audience 
when she forgets. Applause at finish.] 

Miss B. [Seats herself , bowing and smiling delightedly.] 
There, Sister Jenkins, I guess we've poured ile on 'em ! 
Ain't we havin' a beautiful time? What do you think of 
our picnic now ? 

Mrs. J. Sister Blake, I think you are making a great 
big fool of yourself. Don't you see they are making fun 
of you ? 

Miss B. [Still beaming.] Dear Sister Jenkins, you have 
an unfortunate way of seeing disagreeable things. Now 
I see nothing but smiling faces and good feelings and I am 
proud to think I have been the humble instrument to bring 
about this happy situation. 

Mrs. J. [Aside.] Law, what fools some people be, but 
I reckon they're a heap happier when they're bein' fooled. 
I wonder if she'd keep on smilin' if she was in my place 
and Willie a settin' there on the ground without his 
cushion, making a donkey of himself along with those silly 
girls. Well, if them Prestons ever ask me to another picnic 
I'll jest say in my perlitest tones, " No, thank you, Mis' 
Preston, Sunday-school picnics is the only kind I ever 
patternize." [Seats herself primly on a log.] 

Pa. Ain't nobody else goin' to volunteer to entertain 
us ? I might tell a up-to-date story if nobody else is ready. 



PA'S PICNIC. 21 

Ma, this rag is slippin' off. Can't you toggle it up a little ? 
[Ma fixes bandage on his head. Young people laugh at his 
appearance.'] 

[Insert funny story.] 

Betty. Come, friends; let's go look for wild flowers. 
[All pair off and go into woods.] 

Ma [Pa struggles to his feet with her help.] The next 
time you get up a picnic, Pa, you better let Betty and me 
plan things for you. 

Pa [Indignantly.] Plan things ! I'd like to know if 
they hadn't been planned all right. I had everything all 
arranged for down to the smallest details. Trouble is 
you women folks mix everything all up. I picked out a 
grove for the picnic and sent the ice-cream and stuff there 
and you folks all go sky-larkin' round the country for a 
place where there is screened-in woods; sand-papered grass 
and cushioned logs. I tell you I'd rather have them harm- 
less little snakes crawlin' all over me than walk into a nest 
of hornets. I fit them pests till I was clean tuckered out. 
I'd rather do a week's solid thrashin' than to go to another 
picnic. 

Ma. But it's your picnic ; you proposed it, didn't you ? 

Pa. Well, I like to see young people enjoy themselves; 
I'm willin' to sacrifice myself if they only show a little 
appreciation, but, great guns ! these young folks don't act 
a bit as if they was enjoyin' themselves. I don't get no 
thanks for all I've been through. They're as stiff as 
preacher's collars. 

Ma. Well, maybe they'll feel better after they've paired 
off for a while by themselves. 

Pa. I don't know as I care about this pairin' business 
when it comes to Betty and that do-nothing fellow that 
tags around after her. He sticks to her like a burr to a 
horse-blanket. Why, that fellow didn't even know whether 
his Pa had made hay yet. Who's that comin' ? 

[A Gypsy Enters.] 

Gyp. Good-day, sir. 

Pa. Howdy, young woman. There ain't no use of you 



22 PA'S PICNIC. 

comin' around for any cold victuals — we don't give food 
nor money to strangers. 

Gyp. I am not a stranger — to you — we have met before 
— but you do not remember — I am a clairvoyant — I foretell 
the future. 

Pa. Oh, sure, I see — you are a gypsy. Then you can 
tell fortunes? 

Gyp. Only for great people — I can tell yours. 

Pa. All right, then — here, tell mine. 

Gypsy takes Pa's hand. At this moment Ma turning 
around discovers them.] 

Ma [Coming forward.] Well, what in the name of 
creation is this ? A gypsy ! And you, Pa Preston, gettin' 
your hand held by a huzzy like this ! 

Pa. [Aggrieved.] I was gettin', my fortune told. 

Ma [Angrily.] I can tell your fortune without having 
a strange young woman aholdin' your hand. 

Gyp [To Ma.] Ah, madam ! You have a most amazing 
future if you would but let me see your hand. 

Ma [Interested.] What do you see? [Gives her hand 
willingly.] 

Gyp. I see strange things indeed. 

Ma [Excitedly.] Go on ! go on ! 

Pa [With great sarcasm.] You like havin' your fortune 
told. 

Ma. Well, this is diff'rent. Look here, Pa Preston, 
don't stand there gaping. You go ahead and hunt up them 
young folks — they'd like to have their fortunes told too — 
and this gypsy can practice on me till they come. 

[EXIT Pa univillingly. 

Ma. Now go on. 

Gyp. You have had a recent hard journey. 

Ma. Yes, been to a picnic. 

Gyp. And a great disappointment. 

Ma. That's true. Ice-cream and sandwiches left be- 
hind. 

Gyp. There is a great surprise in store for you. 

Ma. Put it off as long as you can. I've had about 
enough surprises for one day. 



PA'S PICNIC. 23 

Gyp. But listen. You are about to meet your fate! 

Ma. But I'm married already. 

Gyp. Oh, that is nothing. Thousands of people are 
married but they have not all met their fate. 

Ma. Oh my, hurry up, I want to hear the rest. 
[Disappointedly.] No, I can't let you finish — here come 
the young folks. 

ENTER Pa and the young people. 

Betty. It's a fortune-teller. 

Ross. May be she can tell us where the ice-cream is. 

Gyp. I offer to reveal the past, present and future of 
everyone here for a little miserable piece of money — and if 
anybody does not want the past revealed it will cost two 
little pieces of money. 

Ma. You can let the present alone, young woman, we all 
know what's happening NOW. 

Max. Tell Betty's fortune first. 

Gyp. [To Betty.] You have been the joy and the 
darling of your papa and your mamma all your life, but 
now pretty soon you are going to be the joy and darling 
of some one else. You understand me? There is a light 
young man crossing your pathway, but you are undecided 
about him, whether you will take him. Listen to me. I 
advise you well. Take him. He is going to get a good job 
pretty soon and will make lots of money and then you 
and your papa and your mammn will be glad that you 
married him. You understand me? 

Pa. Say, she's all right. Come on, girls, all of you, 
come on. Step right up and get your fortunes told, I'll 
settle the bill. 

Betty. Ross, don't you want your fortune told? 

Ross. No, I don't believe in the nonsense of these beg- 
gars. It's just a waste of time and money. 

Mamie. Tell mine, please. I don't believe in it either, 
but I'd like to hear what she says just for fun. 

Gyp. Ah, you have a great musical talent. If you had 
been a man you would have been the leader of a German 
band. But there are other professions you can follow with 



2-t PA'S PICNIC. 

great success. But listen to me. If you don't get married 
you will die an old maid, and that is a terrible fate. 

Gypsy continues telling fortunes in pantomime. Pa 
motioning beckoning in background finality attracts 
Ma's attention. "Ma!" he calls out. 

Ma [Moving over near Pa.] What in creation is the 
matter with you, now ? 

Pa. I want to take these rags off me. I heard some 
of those young people tittering behind me and I kind o' 
suspect they were laughing at me. Do I look ridic'lous ? 

Ma. Well, rather. But what do you care about your 
looks if the mud makes you more comfortable? 

Pa. I don't hurt much now and I guess you'd better 
take these duds off. 

Ma. All right, and I tell you, Pa, I think you're clean 
tuckered out and oughter lie down and take a nap. I'll fix 
you a nice place here. 

Pa [Indignantly.] Well, I guess not. Sleep yourself 
if you want to. I'm a going to have my fortune told. 
[Approaches the Gypsy.] Here, young woman, what do 
you see in my hand? 

Gyp. [Takes Pa's hand.] This gentleman has a most 
remarkable future in store for him. 

Max. Tell it quick. 

Gyp. It is wonderful what he will be. He is destined 
to become a president. 

Chorus. A president ! 

Gyp. Yes. He will be the president of a railroad, and 
that is greater than to be the president of his country. His 
picture will be in the papers three times every day, and 
every year he ought to go to jail. 

Pa. Oh, gee, I don't want to be president. 

Gyp. But you will always manage to stay out some 
way. You have got to be the president of a railroad. You 
can't help it. Fate decrees it. 

Pa. Well, if I am going to be president of a railroad 
I've got to have a railroad first, and how in thunder am I 
agoin' to git a holt of one. 

Gyp. That is easy — you see that line — when anyone 



PAS PICNIC. 25 

has a line like that in his hand it means Watch out. [She 
steals his watch from his pocket.] You just take a rail- 
road away from somebody else. 

Pa. But the other feller might object. 

Gyp. Oh, you can fight him. 

Pa. Say, will I be rich? 

Gyp. You will roll in wealth. But in the papers you 
will always say: " I would rather be back on the old farm 
than to be president of a great railroad." They all do, but 
that is part of the business. To yourself you will say: 
" This is Easy Money." [She steals his pocket-book, while 
he stares at his outstretched hand.'] 

Pa. Say, young woman, I guess you know what you're 
talking about, all right. [To Mrs. Jenkins.] Come on, 
Mrs. Jenkins, and get your fortune told. 

Mrs. J. [With extreme scorn.] Well, I guess not. I'm 
a respectable member of the Ladies' Aid Society, and I've 
something else to do with my time. 

Gyp. [Approaching Mtss Blake, who pretends to dis- 
approve of fortune telling.'] Let me tell your fortune, 
miss, ' 

Miss B. I don't believe in tempting Providence, 
woman. 

Ma. Oh, there ain't nothing wicked about it. Sister 
Blake. It's just nonsense that makes a little fun for us. 

Miss B. Y^ou're sure there is no evil influence about 
her ? 

Bob. Oh, she is harmless; come on, Miss Blake, and 
try it. 

[Miss Blake hesitatingly looks in her bag and produces 

quarter.] 

Gyp. Ah, you have never had a real show in your life; 
you have always sat back in the shadows, but now you are 
to come out into the sunshine. Oh, it is wonderful the 
things I see around you. At this moment, I see a hand- 
some man behind you. [Miss Blake starts and looks 
around.] No, you cannot see him — I can, you under- 
stand me? Yes, he is going to propose to you shortly — ah, 
you will be surprised, yes — but so will he. However, you 



20 PA'S PICMC. 

will be married and he will take you to the city to live and 
there you will become stylish. And when you get real 
stylish you will get a divorce and then you will become a 
suffragette. [Turns to Willie Jenkins.] I see one little 
boy here who has not had his fortune told, and I can tell by 
his intelligent face that he has a remarkable career before 
him. 

Gertrude. She means you, Willie. Let's hear what is 
going to happen to you. 

Willie. Ma carries the pocket-book and she won't give 
me a quarter for no such foolishness. 

Amy. We might take up a collection for Willie; I'm 
anxious to hear the fortune that is in store for him. 

Max. So am I. Here's a nickle. [Throws nickle in 
his hat which he passes around and gives the contents to 

GrYPSY.] 

Gyp. [Takes Willie's hand.] Ah, I see you have had a 
dark and gloomy past. 

Willie [Looks at his hand and rubs it.] Naw, that 
ain't my past; that's dirt. 

Gyp. But you have met something to-day that will 
change everything in your life. 

Bob. Hornets. 

Gyp. You are in love with many beautiful young 
ladies, and you will soon become the rejected lover of one 
of them. You have been devoted to another but you will 
soon forget her — 

Willie [Smiling foolishly.] That's Ma, I reckon. 

Gyp. You have led a quiet life, but you will now 
become gay and reckless. You will amass a great fortune 
through speculation and will also become a great political 
speaker. 

Bob. Hear, hear ! Hurrah for the Hon. Wm. T. 
Jenkins! Let's have a speech. Speech! speech! [Or 
song.] 

Betty. You might as well practice on us, Willie, if 
you are to become a great speaker. Here's a stump. Now 
is your chance. 

Willie [Bashfully.] Oh I can't! I don't know nothin' 
to say. [Or sing.] 



PA'S PICNIC. 27 



Dear — Dear sisters and brethren- 



Gertrude. That isn't the way to begin; say fellow- 
citizens. 

Willie. My dear girls and fellow-citizens. I come be- 
fore you to-day — I come before you to-day full of — of 

Bob. Pie and doughnuts ! 

Willie. Say, now you keep still and I'll get off a good 
one. [Raising his hands with a sweeping gesture.] Full 
of feelings — full of warm feelings 

Max. Make 'em hot, Willie. Red-hot wouldn't be 
puttin' it any too strong. 

Willie. Red-hot feelings for — for — the sweet young 
ladies who have given us such a dandy old picnic to-day. 

Betty. That is where you miss it, Willie; this is Pa's 
picnic, you must remember. Try it again. 

Willie. Fellow-citizens and dear girls ! We are proud 
to belong to this noble land of freedom over which the 
glorious stars and stripes float — ah — floats. 

[EXIT Gypsies. 

Max [In deep voice.] It floats; it floats! 

Willie. Floats forever and ever. Freedom and liberty. 
Hurrah boys ! Three cheers for freedom and liberty. 
[Waves his hat excitedly and falls off the stump amidst 
applause.] 

ENTER Mamie and Ross running. 

Mamie. Don't you people know it's raining? Who's 
got an umbrella. I wouldn't have this dress spoiled for 
the world. [Commotion among guests.] 

Gertrude. It is raining; I felt two big drops. Oh, 
let's hurry. 

Willie [Jumps up from ground and pulls off his coat.] 
Never mind, Miss Gertrude, I'll protect you. [Wraps coat 
about her.] 

Gertrude [Throws off coat.] Keep your old coat; it's 
too warm. Where is Mr. Preston? Why doesn't he take 
us home? 

Ma [Runs to ivaken Pa.] Pa, Pa Preston, wake up. 
It's going to rain cats and dogs. Hurry and get the wagon 



28 PA'S PICNIC. 

ready. [Umbrellas are put up and girls use tablecloths, 
laprobes, etc., to throw around them.] 

Pa [Scrambling up and looking for his watch.] Wh — 
what — what's the matter anyway ? Is it time to go home ? 
Who took my watch ? 

Ma. Your watch; for the land's sake, is it gone? I'll 
bet that gypsy woman took it. Run, boys, and see if she's 
got away yet. [EXIT Boys. 

Pa [Calling.] She's got my money too, and all the 
outfit. Say, girls, ain't we havin' a nice time. Ma, why 
couldn't you keep watch while that gypsy was around here ? 

Ma. Why, how'd I know you needed watchin' ? 

Betty. The gypsy kept the watch all right ; she's miles 
away by this time. 

Ma. She seemed such a nice spoken lady. I never 
suspicioned she'd take anything. 

Pa. Well, we've had our fun and paid pretty high for 
it. But don't any of you folks ever say picnic to me again. 
Come on, I hope you will never ask me. to take you to 
another picnic. [EXIT Procession. 

Mamie [To Gertrude.] Gracious, did you ever see a 
worse mix up. I hope to goodness they won't say anything 
more about that house-party. 

Gertrude. I wouldn't stay any longer if they'd give 
me the whole farm. [EXIT Mamie and Gertrude. 

[The following scene can be omitted or added as desired.] 

SCENE II. 

ENTER Betty and Ross. 

Betty [Looking on ground.] I wouldn't lose that little 
pin for the world. It's the one you gave me, Ross, I must 
have dropped it somewhere near here — unless, [Stops short 
and looks at Ross.] Do you suppose the gypsy took it ? 

Ross. Betty, here it is [Holds up pin.] I found it 
some time ago. What reward am I to have? 

Betty. Oh, Ross, you're a darling! But why didn't 
you give it to me before ? 



PA'S PICNIC. 29 

Ross. Because I wanted to give it to you without an 
army of spectators and claim my reward. 

Betty [Shyly.] I am sure I am very much obligated 
to you, Ross, I don't know what you wish in the way of 
reward. 

Ross. You know what I wish, Betty, I want you. 
[Grasps her hands.] You know my love for you, dear, 
and I cannot leave you without some word of hope. [They 
pose in loving attitude. Enter Miss Blake. Starts in 
surprise and holds her fan before her eyes.] 

Miss Blake. Ah, what a touching picture ! I am 
afraid I have arrived at a most inopportune moment. I 
believe that under the circumstances, a misrepresentation 
would be justifiable. I shall tell the others who are so 
impatiently waiting, that I could not find the young couple. 
I shall do my best to shield them. How true are those 
beautiful words of the noble poet, " All the world loves a 
lover." [Exit with fan before her face but before she is 
out of sight, she peeps around at lovers.] 

Betty. We are keeping them all waiting, Ross. 

Ross. Why shouldn't they wait when such an important 
question is to be decided. What is to be my answer, Betty ? 

ENTER Pa, red and cross. When he sees couple in loving 
attitude a broad smile slowly breaks over his face. 

Pa. Well, that looks like business ! The fair young 
man has appeared right up to time. They don't seem to 
need any o' my help about settling it. [Ross places both 
arms about Betty.] I'll sneak back and tell the folks 
Betty ain't nowhere in sight. [Peeps back at couple.] Not 
much of her in sight sure's I'm a farmer. [EXIT Pa. 

Betty. Really, Ross, we must go back to the wagon. 

Ross. Yes, presently. I shall tell Mr. Preston this is 
the most successful picnic I ever attended. 

[ENTER Max. 

Max. Well, I'll be jiggered if they are not spooning 
away while the whole crowd is fuming and sputtering over 
the delay ! [Calls loudly.] Break away, there ! [Betty 
and Ross spring apart in confusion.] You must be enjoy- 



30 PAS PICNIC. 

ing this confounded picnic better than the rest of us. 
They're raising Cain because you don't show up. You 
must have forgotten what you went after. 

Betty [Looking off r.] Good gracious, here comes the 
whole bunch. 

ENTER Entire cast. 

Willie. What's the matter? Has the lightning struck? 

Pa. Betty, I couldn't hold 'em back no longer. Ain't 
you 'bout ready to travel now? 

Ross. Yes, Mr. Preston, we are ready to travel together 
for all time. Betty and I vote this the most satisfactory 
picnic we ever attended. 

Pa. Humph ! Dunno as I can second that. 



CURTAIN. 



Uncle Rube 

An Original Homestead Play in Four Acta 

By CHARLES TOWNSEND 
The Finest Rural Drama Ever Published 



Price, 25 cents 



CHARACTERS 

RUBEN RODNEY (Uncle Rube), Justice of the Peace, School 

Trustee, and a master hand at "swappin' hosses"... .Character lead 

SIMON SMARLEY, a smooth and cunning old villain 

Character heavy 

MARK, his son, a promising young rascal Straight heavy 

GORDON GRAY, a popular young artist Juvenile lead 

UPSON ASTERBILT, an up-to-date New York dude 

Character comedy 

IKE, the hired man. "I want ter know:" Eccentric 

BUB GREEN, a comical young rustic Low comedy 

BILL TAPPAN, a country constable Comedy 

MILLICENT LEE. "the pretty school teacher" Juvenile lady 

MRS. MARTHA BUNN, a charming widow. .. .Character comedy 
TAGGS, a waif from New York Soubrette 

Time — Mid Autumn. Place — Vermont. 

Time of playing — Two hours and a quarter. 

SYNOPSIS 
ACT I. The Old Homestead. Uncle Rube arrives. 
ACT II. The Constable's office. The plot to ruin Uncle Rube. 
ACT III. Evening at the old farm. Uncle Rube is arrested. 
ACT IV. The Constable's office again. The old farmer wins! 

This play was written by one of the most popular of American 
dramatists, whosp works have sold by the hundreds of thousands. 
One of the best plays of its class ever written. Splendid characters. 
Powerful climaxes. Bright wit. Merry humor. Very easy to pro- 
duce. Requires only three scenes. No shifts of scenery during anj 
act. Costumes all modern. No difficult properties required. 

THE AUTHOR'S OPINION! 

MR. TOWNSEND says of this drama: "I consider that 'Uncle 
Rube' is far superior to any play depicting country life that I have 
yet written." 



This is the play for everybody — amateurs as well as professionals. 
It can be produced on any stage, and pleases all classes, from the 
most critical city audiences to those of the smallest country towns. 
Printed directly from the author's acting copy, with all the original 
stage directions. 

Address Orders to 

THE DRAMATIC PUBLISHING COMPANY 

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS 



m/v 10 



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The Spinsters' Convention 

(The Original 
Old Maids' Convention) 



Price, 25 cents 



An evening's entertainment which is always a sure hit and 
a money-maker. Has been given many hundred times by 
schools, societies and churches, with the greatest success. An 
evening of refined fun. It requires from twelve to twenty 
ladies and two gentlemen, although ladies may take the two 
male parts. A raised platform with curtains at the back is 
all the stage requires, but a fully equipped opera stage may 
be utilized and to great advantage. 

Eidiculous old maid costumes, with all their frills and fur- 
belows, their cork-screw curls, mittens, work bags, bird cages, 
etc., are the proper costumes. Later on in the program some 
pretty young women in modern evening dress are required. 
The latter should each be able to give a number of a mis- 
cellaneous program, that is, be able to sing, play some instru* 
ment, dance, whistle or recite well. 

This entertainment utilizes all sorts of talent, and givei 
each participant a good part. Large societies can give every 
member something to do. 

SYNOPSIS 

Gathering of the Members of the Society — The Roll-Call — The 
Greeting - Song- — Minutes of the last meeting — Report of The Treas- 
urer — Music: "Sack Waltz" — A paper on Woman's Rights — Song: 
"No One to Love, None to Caress." — Reading of "Marriage Statis- 
tics" — The Advent of the Mouse — Initiation of two Candidates into 
the Society — The Psalm of Marriage — Secretary's Report on Eligible 
Men — A Petition to Congress — Original Poem by Betsy Bobbett — 
Song: "Why Don't the Men Propose?" — Report of The Vigilance 
Committee — An Appeal to the Bachelors — Prof. Make-over— Tr-e 
Remodelscope.-Testimonials — The Transformation and a miscel- 
laneous program. 

Address Orders to 
THE DRAMATIC PUBLISHING COMPANY 

CHICAGO. ILLINOIS 



Hageman's Make-Up Book 

By MAURICE HAGEMAN 

Price, 25 cents 

The importance of an effective make-up is becoming more appar- 
ent to the professional actor every year, but hitherto there has been 
no book on the subject describing the modern methods and at the 
.same time covering all branches of the art. This want has now 
been filled. Mr. Hageman has had an experience of twenty years 
as actor and stage-manager, and his well-known literary ability has 
enabled him to put the knowledge so gained into shape to be of 
use to others. The book is an encyclopedia of the art of making up.. 
Every branch of the subject is exhaustively treated, and few ques- 
tions can be asked by professional or amateur that cannot be an- 
swered by this admirable hand-book. It is not only the best make- 
up book ever published, but it is not likely to be superseded by 
<tny other. It is absolutely indispensable to every ambitious actor.. 

CONTENTS 

Chapter I. General Remarks. 

Chapter II. Grease-Paints, their origin, components and use. 

Chapter III. The Make-up Box. Grease-paints, Mirrors, Face 
Powder and Puff, Exora Cream, Rouge. Liquid Color, Grenadine, 
Blue for the Eyelids, Brilliantine for the Hair, Nose Putty, Wig 
Paste, Mascaro, Crape Hair, Spirit Gum, Scissors, Artists' Stomps, 
Cold Cream, Cocoa Butter, Recipes for Cold Cream. 

Chapter IV. Preliminaries before Making up; the Straight Make- 
up and how to remove it. 

Chapter V. Remarks to Ladies. Liquid Creams, Rouge, Lips, 
Eyebrows, Eyelashes. Character Roles, Jewelry, Removing Make-up. 

Chapter VI. Juveniles. Straight Juvenile Make-up, Society 
Men, Young Men in 111 Health, with Red Wigs, Rococo Make-up, 
Hands, Wrists, Cheeks, etc. 

Chapter VII. Adults, Middle Aged and Old Men. Ordinary Type 
of Manhood, Lining Colors, Wrinkles, Rouge, Sickly and Healthy 
Old Age, Ruddy Complexions. 

Chapter VIII. Comedy and Character Make-ups. Comedy Ef- 
fects, Wigs, Beards, Eyebrows, Noses, Lips, Pallor of Death. 

Chapter IX. The Human Features. The Mouth and Lips, the 
Eyes and Eyelids, the Nose, the Chin, the Ear, the Teeth. 

Chapter X. Other Exposed Parts of the Human Anatomy. 

Chapter XI. Wigs, Beards, Moustaches, and Eyebrows. Choosing 
a Wig, Powdering the Hair, Dimensions for Wigs, Wig Bands, Bald 
Wigs, Ladies' Wigs, Beards on Wire, on Gauze, Crape Hair, Wool, 
Beards for Tramps, Moustaches, Eyebrows. 

Chapter XII. Distinctive and Traditional Characteristics. North 
American Indians, New England Farmers, Hoosiers, Southerners, 
Politicians, Cowboys, Minors, Quakers, Tramps, Creoles, Mulattoes, 
Quadroons, Octoroons. Negroes, Soldiers during War, Soldiers dur- 
ing Peace, Scouts, Pathfinders, Puritans, Early Dutch Settlers, 
Englishmen, Scotchmen, Irishmen, Frenchmen, Italians, Spaniards, 
Portuguese, South Americans, Scandinavians, Germans, Hollanders. 
Hungarians, Gipsies, Russians, Turks, Arabs, Moors, Caffirs, Abys- 
sinians, Hindoos, Malays, Chinese, Japanese, Clowns and Statuary,. 
Hebrews, Drunkards, Lunatics, Idiots, Misers, Rogues. 

Address Orders to 
THE DRAMATIC PUBLISHING COMPANY 

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS 
|r "1 CAT OIV. 



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PLAYS. 



BEING the largest theatrical booksellers in 
the United States, we keep in stock the most 
complete and best assorted lines of plays and 
entertainment books to be found in this country. 

We can supply any play or book pub- 
Ushed. We have issued a 144-page catalogue 
of the best 1500 plays and er ^r.ainment books 
published in the U. S. and England. It con- 
tains a full description of each play, giving 
number of characters, time of playing, scenery, 
costumes, etc. This catalogue will be sent free 
on application. 

The plays described are suitable for am- 
ateurs and professionals, and nearly all of them 
May be performed free of royalty. Persons in- 
terested in dramatic books should examine eul 
catalogue before ordering elsewhere. 

The Dramatic Publishing Company. 

CHICAGO. 



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